It's different, and I wanted to celebrate that a little bit because it's meaningful to me. And so today's poem is called Muse. Could you have found your muse in ivy covered walls? Or met it on the peaks of hills where soft rain falls? And what of cool clear lakes where others went to write? Found it in hamlets aged in ancient castles might perhaps in garden's fair with pleasant treelined way you met a dream that bid you evermore to stay